The Child of December
by N.Mirz
Summary: It's about ten years after their marriage when Jane recieves an unexpected letter informing her of a least expected visitor. When two people love each other without limits their love can cause them unnecessary problems.R&R plz
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well this is a short story that hit me at night and I couldn't help but put it here. I hope you would enjoy it

Disclaimer: except Agnes and the children all other characters belong to the wonderful C. Bronte.

**The Child of December**

You never could find a day in Thornfield like that fateful Tuesday in December. Ever since I have come here it has been peaceful and civil. That is until that day. But of course that tranquil place had not always been so, it's had its own history, a history I was surprised to hear. When I first came to work here for Mr. and Ms. Rochester as a servant almost a year ago; I could have never suspected that any extraordinary or scandalous thing could have ever occurred in such a warm, amiable family as theirs.

But I found out all about it soon enough when I asked Mary who had worked there for a very long time, as to why some of the nearer grounds to the Hall were burnt.

"Oh didn't you know that Thornfield has been rebuilt after it was burnet to ground?" she replied.

"Burnt to the ground? No, I didn't know that. Um…why I mean what happened."

"Oh well, it's a long story but I delight in narrating it if you are interested" she smiled.

And so she told me all about a bittersweet love story that was the last thing I had expected to hear. I knew it for a fact that the Rochesters were married for love and it hadn't changed a bit if not increased; for you can see the deep affection in their eyes when they address each other or simply gaze. But how could I ever imagine the story behind this love?

Then I did not wonder about the tranquility and warmth of the place. I enjoyed and still do, working here, playing with the five year old Matthew and singing to little Margaret. They are wonderful children. Matthew looks much like his father, he is quite a young man with his Black hair and dark black eyes; and what I love best about him is the responsibility he feels for his sister with all his childishness.

Margaret is two and has no likelihood to either of her parents. She is too young to be able to ascribe any real character to her except being a sweet little angel with wonderful soft features, curly, jet-black hair and soft green eyes. One can only wonder that how parents who themselves are deprived of any outer beauty can produce such a bell as her.

But to return to that terrible Tuesday which had indeed it's origins in the previous Sunday morning, at breakfast. The children, having had their meal in the nursery were now sitting on the kitchen chairs watching my work as I told them one of my own favorite childhood stories. The mistress had received a letter that morning from India from a Mr. Rivers; one of her relatives I believe.

"And so Clarissa made them wash the stable and clean the rooms…" I was saying when the door burst open, revealing Mary and her husband, John; too deep in conversation to notice us.

"Well I don't know nothing about this gentleman but the master wasn't as happy as his wife." Mary remarked darkly.

"I can't see why he is so piqued by this. Poor mistress was hurt."

"Well, it must be something between them two that we don't know. But I worry for the master; he has gone out and Lord knows where. You know how he used to be when he got hot angry and I hadn't seen him this hot tempered in a long time."

"Why, what's the matter, Mary?" I asked and it was only then that she noticed us.

"Oh Miss Agnes, you are here"

"Was I supposed to be anywhere else than here?"

"Nay, nay"

"Will you tell me what has happened?"

"Well it's only the letter that the mistress received from Mr. Rivers. Apparently he is to visit her first thing once he comes back to England from India and Mrs. Rochester was overjoyed by that."

"Why is he in India?"

"St. John is a missionary."

"And why has that caused any problems?"

Mary didn't answer, instead she looked at the children uneasily and I understood.

"Mathew will you be a good brother and take your little sister to the nursery?"

"But we still don't know what happens to Clarissa." He protested.

"Well maybe I would tell the rest of it some other time." I answered.

"Maybe?"

"If you be a good boy I'll continue it when I've finished my work."

Silently but grudgingly he obeyed and took Margaret with him. I turned back to Mary once the door was closed.

"Well?" I said, turning back to Mary.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"It is obvious that Mr. Rochester doesn't like the man but in her joy Mrs. Rochester was oblivious to that at first. Then seeing his uninterested, grim behavior she asked if he was displeased and he replied that why he shouldn't be when _his_ _wife_ was so overjoyed to see another man. How could he be indifferent?

"And the mistress was so hurt by that comment that tears welled up in her eyes. She said that she didn't understand why he acted that way after all that had passed, that it was natural for her to be happy since he is her _cousin. _"Cousin or former lovers?" were his words.

Well, pale went the poor mistress when she heard that and asked in a hard whisper "do you still doubt my love?" and with that she left the table for her room with him hot on her hills. And though we could still hear their voices we could barely make out any words; until about five minutes later the master came down, cloaked, and left the house without a word, slamming the door shut behind him"

"Leah never told me there was a rival!" I said

"Oh no, there never was any for the poor Miss Eyre. That was a bitter misunderstanding on the part of Mr. Rochester but was long cleared away. Everyone knew that Miss Eyre loves him passionately and him alone."

"And what is Mrs. Rochester doing now?" I asked

"She's locked herself up in her room" she said; worry creeping on her old features again.

We anticipated the master home by night but he didn't come nor did he the next day and the mistress was taken sick with worry. On the Tuesday she did not even leave her bed and lost the little appetite she had. As the day developed she became worse and started to throw up all she had been forced to eat for breakfast. I prayed that Mr. Rochester would come home sooner for I couldn't bear to see the frail Miss Jane melting away like that.

It was nearly eight o' clock when the sound of hooves coming at full gallop were heard and some minutes later the black form of Mesrour with his rider were seen. I rushed to the mistress's room to inform her but the door was locked. I knocked, but there was no sound. I tried harder, again silence. I panicked. It was then that I heard the front doors open and hastened downstairs.

"Sir!" I exclaimed as soon as I saw him. "It's Mrs. Rochester. Please do come quick." He turned pale with fear and followed me without a second's delay.

"She'd been ill all yesterday and today, and now she has locked herself up again and wouldn't answer." By the time I finished we had reached her door.

"Jane, Jane, open this door. Janet, darling, please open the door. There was a sound of movement and again stillness.

"My dearest, it's me, Edward."

"Edward?" came a weak voice from behind the wooden barrier. At long last the door opened but hardly a moment went by before the frail, thin figure of a glowering Jane collapsed into the tender arms of her caring husband.

"Agnes, send for Carter, quick." He commanded. I rushed down to send John for the physician in record time. Mr. Carter was here soon and went straight up to the masters room.

"Agnes, will you tell me the rest of the story/" came a small voice. Looking down, I saw Matthew.

"Why don't you play with your sister?"

"She is sleeping"

"Well don't you want me to tell it when she is here so that she can listen to it too?"

"I do.-- Agnes where is Papa?"

"He has just come and is with your mother now."

"Is mother ill?"

The innocent question crushed me and I knelt down to take the little boy in my arms. "Let's hope not, darling"

We waited together at the foot of the stairs for Mr. Carter and at last were rewarded for the patience. I called out to him as he was about to leave.

"Mr. Carter…how is Mrs. Rochester?"

"Oh both of them are well" he smiled

"Both? Why, was Mr. Rochester…?"

"I mean the child, Miss. You should take better care of you mistress. After all, expectant mothers should have extra care and not be distressed."

All I can say is that my jaw dropped and I just stared at the old man leaving. Matthews voice brought me back.

"Well, is mother ill?"

'No dear, your mother is well. Tell me do you like a brother or another sister?"

The End

A/N: I know they are a bit out of character and that arguments don't suit this particular favorite and perfect couple but I just wanted to try one. Tell me what you think!


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